


Mine

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan is caught between the affections of a program and a programmer. Only he isn't actually aware of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

Alan wanted to believe it hadn’t been a mistake bringing Ed into the fold, and introducing him to the Grid. Sam was hesitant to trust him at first, which wasn’t much of a surprise given the bitter history between their families, but Alan’s reassurance eventually won him over. True, he and the younger Dillinger had never really been on _friendly_ terms, per se, but Ed was talented—if a bit arrogant about it—and reliable. He also kept his business to himself. With Sam taking over Encom, and Alan doing most of the actual work while Sam figured out what he was doing taking over Encom, that left the Grid without a user. The programs had already suffered significantly in the power vacuum left after Clu and Kevin’s reintegration, and Sam felt he owed it to his father to keep the world inside the computer alive and thriving.  
  
They needed shifts. One user in, the others to act as safeguards in case something went wrong. Ultimately all say in what happened to the Grid rested in Sam’s hands, but Alan and Ed would provide input based on their experiences inside the system. At least, that was the plan. It would take time to familiarize Ed with the layout and nature of the Grid, the programs that inhabited it, and what it meant to be a user. Alan had picked things up pretty quickly, and there was no reason to believe Ed wouldn’t do the same, but they wanted to take it slow. Mistakes had been made in the past, and they all agreed the programs deserved better this time around.  
  
Things were a little rocky at first. It was hard for everyone to accept users once more running their lives, let alone three. They were more at ease around Sam, thanks to his father, and Alan had the benefit of his association with Tron. Ed, though, had a tougher time fitting in. At first he refused to wear a suit, claiming he wasn’t comfortable out of his own clothes. He made a good point that the suits didn’t actually protect or prevent anything, and were in fact no better than thin spandex when it came to protection, but it helped make the programs more comfortable with his presence, and so he eventually conceded.  
  
It was during his third trip into the system that he met Tron for the first time—the _real_ Tron. Sam and Alan had spent months “fixing” him; essentially unraveling his code and ripping out all of Clu’s alterations piece by piece. Sam was forced to do his share of the work from the outside, after it became clear through an unfortunate series of outbursts that Rinzler still had every intention of killing him. Fortunately for Alan, his status as Tron’s user seemed to bypass everything Clu had done to him, and also left Alan with an extremely aggressive shadow most of the time he was in the system. Consequently, he didn’t get to spend a lot of time around most of the other programs until after Tron was made whole again.  
  
For a while it seemed as though everything might actually go according to plan. Sam kept insisting something would go wrong, but Alan had faith in their efforts. It was probably why he missed the warning signs.  
  
They were finishing up a tour of the city’s lower levels when Ed made what Alan at first took to be an innocent, possibly accidental gesture. Tron was flying the recognizer, carefully dodging between the lower halves of towering skyscrapers that extended just as far into the city’s substructure as their tops reached into the sky. Alan was explaining how the power and energy distribution systems worked when he felt a tingling sensation slowly working its way up his left arm. He looked down to find Ed tracing a finger over the blue circuit on his forearm, watching as the color darkened and then faded back to normal again. It was an unusual feeling, and even more unusual coming from Ed. For a moment Alan could only stare and wonder what the hell was going on. He finally snapped out of it when Ed’s fingers circled his wrist, the back of his hand accidentally grazing his waist and sending another jolt through his body.  
  
Alan turned and pulled away from the touch. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Nothing. Sorry.”  
  
Alan shook his head gently and gestured to the lights on his arm. “Circuits are… they take some getting used to, even for us,” he said. He wanted to think it had been an accident, that Ed had just gotten carried away with his curiosity. They didn’t speak of it again that night, not even when they left the system and drove back to where Ed had left his own car. Things continued on as usual from there, and eventually Alan managed to set it aside almost entirely. Nothing about Ed’s behavior in the real world changed, and so he decided to trust his initial assumption that it had been an awkward accident.  
  
A few days later, during their next trip into the system, Alan decided it was time to send Ed off without him, trusting to the program they had taken on as one of their assistants to guide him and keep him out of trouble. Ed seemed reluctant, but Alan shrugged off his concerns; he hadn’t been pleased about the idea the first time, either. It took some adjustment. “He’ll be fine,” he said. More to reassure himself than Tron, who walked beside him. They were headed toward the city center, where Alan had been asked to make some repairs to an unused tower that had once held a club of some sort. Sam said he didn’t care what happened to it, but it seemed to bother the locals that it was sitting in disrepair.  
  
“I’m sure he will,” Tron replied. “Do you want to try light cycles?”  
  
He asked at least once per visit, and Alan had always turned him down. That visit wouldn’t be any different. “I don’t think so. I’m not comfortable with the idea of rocketing around at speeds I can’t even calculate. That’s more Sam’s thing.”  
  
Tron was noticeably disappointed, but he said nothing else on the matter.  
  
When they reached the bottom of the tower—at least the bottom where anyone on the street level was concerned—Tron pointed Alan to a small, mostly glass elevator. Sam had repaired that at some point, but mostly because it kept curious programs from trying to scale the building to see what had or hadn’t been done upstairs. It took half a dozen deresolution-by-falling incidents to prompt him to do that much.  
  
At the top they exited into the club, and Alan found the place looked far worse than Sam’s description had led him to believe. He had said there was an explosion before they left, but what he described didn’t account for the shattered walls and exposed, luminescent framework, or the missing ceiling panels and derezzed remains of furniture. At least he _hoped_ it was furniture.  
  
“Clu’s work,” Tron said. “Rinzler was already following the others.”  
  
Alan had found that Tron preferred to talk about Rinzler as though he were a different entity, and no one questioned it after they saw what severe changes Clu had to make in order to warp Tron into an obedient servant. For all intents and purposes, he _was_ an entirely different program. For all their research and exploration of Tron’s programming, none of them could explain how he had managed to break past it long enough to make an attempt on Clu’s life.  
  
“Well, it’s a quick enough fix,” Alan mumbled quietly in reply. After so long making updates and fixing or replacing things that had been damaged or set to less than savory purposes during Clu’s reign, Alan had a fairly good handle on what was needed to make basic changes. He brought up a floating interface on the only fully intact wall, and started digging through reports to make sure the structure itself hadn’t suffered a breach in integrity. Making the place look better wouldn’t mean a damn thing if it came crashing down the first time they let more than a few programs up there.  
  
Tron wandered around while he worked, and when Alan next checked, he was upstairs, sitting on a couch. “We should see if there’s anything left around here to drink,” he called up to Tron. “I’m almost done here.”  
  
“I don’t think you would like what’s served here.”  
  
Alan looked up and frowned. “Here, or _here?_ ”  
  
“On the Grid,” came Tron’s distant reply. He had gotten up and disappeared beyond the edge of the upper floor, but Alan could hear him shuffling around, moving things that sounded like they were made of glass. “Flynn liked it, but Sam said it tasted like…”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“‘Battery acid and carbonated piss.’ He seemed very serious about that.” Tron reappeared at the edge of the upper level, holding a large decanter filled with some neon green liquid in one hand, and a set of straight glasses in the other. “This is the best. At least out of what’s left.”  
  
Alan pushed aside the interface and turned to him. “Does it have a name?”  
  
“Green?”  
  
“Fair enough.”  
  
After Alan finished the structural repairs, leaving the cosmetic fixes for later, Tron insisted they take a break. Why he needed a break, or thought Alan would need one, was a mystery. Programs did things in their own way. Most of the time Alan just went along with it. They had taken opposite couches in the lounge; Tron sat with his legs crossed on the seat, staring down at his hands, while Alan leaned back and enjoyed the silence. He held his untested drink in one hand. After hearing what Sam thought of the stuff, he wasn’t anxious to try it for himself. Knowing that Kevin had enjoyed it didn’t instill any confidence that Sam’s observation was wrong.  
  
“Are you going to try it?” Tron asked.  
  
Alan jumped at the sudden noise. He wasn’t completely sure, but he thought he might have started to fall asleep. “Uh, yes. I will. Alright, here goes.” He tipped the glass and took a sip, letting it sit on his tongue for a few seconds before swallowing. It wasn’t bad; the flavor was sweet, but mild, and tasted vaguely of lime. “This isn’t bad at all. I wonder why Sam had such a problem with it.”  
  
“Maybe it’s different for everyone. In the same way that all programs process it differently.”  
  
“That’s possible,” Alan said, nodding thoughtfully. “We can have Ed try some, see what he tastes.”  
  
Tron didn’t seem at all pleased by the mention of Ed. He turned and looked out at the club, his mouth drawn in a flat line. Alan knew that look. He set his glass down and leaned forward. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.  
  
“Everything is fine.”  
  
“I’ll give you the benefit of being unfamiliar with cliches, but you’re fitting one pretty well right now. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?” Being on the Grid came with enough strange drama; he didn’t need it from Tron, too.  
  
It was clear that Tron really didn’t want to talk about whatever had upset him, but his desire to keep it to himself conflicted with what Alan knew to be his compulsion to work with his user. “I saw him… touching you. Last time you were here.”  
  
“Oh.” Alan looked down at his drink, unsure how to proceed from there. He decided it was best to explain—for Ed’s sake, if not his own. “I think he just got carried away with his curiosity,” he said. “He doesn’t understand all of this yet. I wouldn’t worry about it.”  
  
“I’m not worried,” Tron shot back. He was staring at Alan in a way that made him feel like he should loosen his tie and go outside to get some air. Of course, he wasn’t wearing a tie, and there _was_ no outside. Not really.  
  
They were quiet for a while after that. Alan took regular sips from his glass, enjoying the drink while he contemplated how to fix the awkward predicament that had somehow fallen into his lap. Ed wasn’t a bad guy, but he was careless in his own way. Like Sam, but without the occasional police presence and thrill seeking, or the manic and too often unrealistic Flynn optimism. He couldn’t have realized that Tron would take offense to his overly-familiar contact with Alan. He was new to the system, and new to the concept of a world that ran on its own rules, with its own set of customs and behaviors, where a single misspoken command could dramatically alter the course of events for everyone. If the misunderstanding between Tron and Ed wasn’t resolved quickly, Alan had a feeling it would fester and grow into something much more difficult to handle.  
  
“Tron,” Alan began, “Ed is just a colleague.” He set his drink down on the glass table and spread his hands out, hoping to placate the program. “Users might interact a bit differently than programs. I’m not very familiar with—”  
  
“They don’t.” Tron stood up, slinking around the side of the long glass table and coming to stand next to Alan. “Well, there are a few differences.” He sank to one knee on the couch and reached out to trace the tip of his finger over Alan’s wrist. The same electric tingle skipped its way out from the point of contact, making Alan shiver, and pulling his attention down.  
  
He watched as Tron trailed a warm line up his arm, coming to a stop at the top of his shoulder. “These,” Tron said. “For example.”  
  
“Tron…”  
  
“And this.” Tron turned his hand so that the skeletal outline of his fingers touched one of Alan’s circuits, and it was like someone had set a live wire to his skin—only not quite so deadly, and resulting in a much better feeling.  
  
Alan blinked hard past the rush of euphoria and the sudden desire to jump up and do something, anything, as long as it meant moving. He shook his head and reached up to grab Tron’s hand, pushing it off his shoulder and breaking the contact. With their circuits separated he felt like someone had turned off a switch, and the urge to throw himself into whatever most physically straining activity he could think of blinked out. “Wh—” the word trailed off into a heavy sigh. “What the _hell_ was that?”  
  
Tron inched himself closer and put his hand on Alan’s knee. “How did it feel?”  
  
“Like a shot of adrenaline, and a… and a _really_ strong buzz. What is that?” Once he had come down a bit, Alan immediately realized that Tron’s hand was not only still on his knee, but he had tightened his grip just a bit, and started kneading the muscle beneath Alan’s suit. He stared, confused that Tron would object to Ed’s familiar contact, but step so far into Alan’s personal space without asking. He wondered if it had to do with being Tron’s user.  
  
“Did you like it?”  
  
Did I—?” Oh. _Oh_. Suddenly a new light was cast on everything Tron had said since they sat down, and Alan could only stare numbly at the hand on his leg, trying to recall everything that had been said, and what part he’d unwittingly had in furthering the current situation.  
  
Apparently Tron took that as a positive sign.  
  
He went from sitting quietly to straddling Alan’s lap in what seemed like one fluid motion, all grace and agility as his knees came down beside Alan’s thighs, and his body hovered just far enough to keep their circuits apart. Alan could still feel the anticipatory tingle working its way over his body, and a looping question played in his mind, asking over and over _what it would feel like_. More than a little touch, more than a quick jolt of that amazing electricity. Sustained contact and Tron’s compact, muscular form pressed against his; the weight on his lap pressed against him, hands wrapped around the back of his neck. It wasn’t as though he’d never thought of it, here and there. Who _wouldn’t?_  
  
But he was Tron’s user, and he couldn’t violate that trust. Alan opened his mouth to object, but the words were forced back by surprisingly soft lips and a tongue that didn’t seem to really understand what it was supposed to be doing. Alan waved his hands around Tron’s shoulders for a second before deciding it was worth the risk of circuit-to-circuit contact if it meant escaping the hold on his mouth. It took a bit of pushing, but he managed to break free, quickly straightening the visor-like glasses he’d fashioned for himself. “Tron, this—we can’t.” He didn’t know what to say, or how to explain it, but he knew he had to do _something_ to bring the situation to a halt before he lost control completely. If he hadn’t already.  
  
After all they had been through working on the Grid together, Alan should have known Tron wouldn’t give up so easily once he set his mind to something.  
  
With a look that said _oh really_ clearer than any words ever could, Tron rolled his hips down and forward, grinding against Alan’s lap and causing a jolt of a different kind. His hands left the back of the seat and his arms wrapped around Alan’s neck, still leaving enough space to keep the circuits on his chest from touching Alan’s. He leaned down slowly, keeping his eyes locked on the mirror of his own until their lips touched.  
  
A thousand objections flew through Alan’s head—he was responsible for the Grid; he had promised Sam he would do his best; he was Tron’s user; he was so much older than the program (maybe); he didn’t even know how to take off his suit; he had only slept with another man once, and that was so far back he could barely remember whether or not he even enjoyed it.  
  
But it felt so good to have that hot, lithe body in his lap, rocking against him, panting between kisses.  
  
Alan pulled himself back, realizing only then that he was also breathing like he’d run a marathon. “I suppose,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I can do everything I promised, and still…” he trailed off, watching as Tron pulled his hands away and reached back to his disc. A high pitched chirp from the interface indicated he’d done something, and then his suit retracted piece by piece, each black fragment folding back until they had all disappeared over his shoulders and around his waist, leaving him completely naked. Alan stared in awe at the impossibly complex, bold blue circuits that covered most of his body. It was beautiful, and fascinating, and he wanted to touch every one of them. Before he realized it he had started tracing his fingers over the lines, marveling at the flush of violet that spread from his touch. Tron wiggled in his lap, gasping quietly as Alan explored the design circling his chest.  
  
“Do all programs have this?” he asked.  
  
Tron shook his head. “Not here. Just me, now.”  
  
Alan ignored the hint at further details and dove back into his journey across Tron’s circuits. He found his way to what looked like a transfer, with a descending line that made its way down Tron’s abdomen and along his thigh, taking a brief detour close to a circuit that turned toward his groin before disappearing between his legs. Tron grew almost frantic when Alan started to touch him there, pointedly avoiding the thinner bands that broke off from the others and spanned the length of his erection.  
  
He lowered his forehead to Alan’s shoulder and let out a choked sigh. “ _Alan-one_ …”  
  
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me that anymore,” Alan teased. He leaned his head to the side to watch as he _accidentally_ brushed his hand against Tron’s cock, feeling his own grow harder as it twitched and the circuits flushed a deep indigo before flaring violet in response. It was stunning, and Alan ached to see more of it—to _feel_ more of it. He tapped Tron on the thigh to get his attention. “How do I take off my suit?” he asked.  
  
Tron lifted his head, looking drunk on pleasure. His eyes were half-lidded and dark, and his circuits burned like someone had lit him from one end to the other. “Oh, on your disc…” he stopped, frowned a bit, and then gestured for Alan to lean forward. With a quick tap to Alan’s disc and another soft beep, the suit started to pull back.  
  
For a brief moment Alan panicked, worrying over what Tron would think of the very obvious erection that was about to be revealed. Then he realized how ridiculous it was to be concerned about that with a naked, aroused program in his lap, writhing under his every touch. Once he was stripped, Alan took hold of Tron’s hand and brought it down between his legs, urging the program to stroke him. It felt so good to have a hand on his cock. So _right_ for it to be Tron’s. “Just like that,” he said with a groan. “Keep going.”  
  
Tron claimed another kiss while he worked his hand, leaning into it and letting his circuits ghost across Alan’s chest. Each touch felt like a crackle of energy and warmth spreading out from the point of contact, no longer centralized and focused by the circuits on Alan’s suit. He arched his back to press himself against Tron, moaning as the warm caress of the circuits heated his skin, leaving it tingling and sensitive to the touch. When Tron pulled away and started to slide down off his lap, Alan reached out a hand to stop him. He let go when he realized what Tron intended to do.  
  
With another mischievous smirk and a teasing flick of his tongue, Tron bent down and took the head of Alan’s cock into his mouth. He stopped stroking and swallowed more, leaning forward to take in as much as possible, and Alan could only watch in awe as most of his length disappeared into an impossibly warm, wet mouth. Another sweep of Tron’s tongue across the underside of the head made his thighs twitch, and he brought a hand down to gently tangle in the program’s hair. He let out a low groan and watched as Tron moved back up, revealing the slick length for just a moment before plunging back down again. Clearly security wasn’t his only talent.  
  
“ _Ah, Tron_ ,” Alan ground through clenched teeth. He grunted with the effort of trying to keep from thrusting up into the moist heat that seemed so eager to accept him. Finally he found enough composure to do more than moan and gasp. “Come back—back up here,” he said breathlessly. “Back on my lap.”  
  
Tron took his time letting Alan’s cock slip from his mouth, giving it one last, exaggerated lick before crawling back up onto the couch in the same position he’d occupied before. As he watched Tron bite and kiss at his chest, purposely dragging his lips over each sensitive nipple, Alan tried to reconcile the Tron that had just gleefully sucked him off with the stoic, unflinching guardian of the Grid. It was like winning a game he didn’t know he was playing. He couldn’t even remember how they had gotten to where they were; all he could think about was having every inch of the program in his arms, taking him until they both needed a recharge, and then doing it all over again until Ed had to come get him.  
  
Shit. _Ed_.  
  
“Tron, we have to stop. I forgot about Ed.”  
  
It had to be well past the point that they had scheduled to meet back at the city center. As much as he wanted to—and he _desperately wanted to_ —he couldn’t leave Ed standing around, wondering where he’d gone. Tron was looking at him like he had just announced his imminent execution; he pushed himself off the couch and stood up, erection apparently unconcerned with the sudden halt in activity.  
  
“What about him?” he demanded, switching into the militaristic mode that normally occupied his personality.  
  
Alan looked down. He felt terrible for leading Tron on, getting him worked up and ready for something he couldn’t do. “I can’t leave him waiting for me. I want—I _really_ want to do this, but we don’t have time.” He was about to ask if they could continue the next time he was there, but that wouldn’t be for months. Dozens of cycles in Tron’s time.  
  
It didn’t seem fair.  
  
“Make time,” Tron said. He bent over Alan and put his hands on the back of the couch again, his face hovering close enough for Alan to see the soft hexagonal shape of his pupils. He lowered himself once more onto Alan’s lap, wrapping both arms around his shoulders. “Alan.”  
  
In that moment Alan knew he had to make a choice. Responsibility, and keeping his word…  
  
Or fucking the perfect, unbearably gorgeous version of himself that sat in his lap, holding him, practically begging to be taken.  
  
He reached down and took hold of his cock, positioning himself against Tron’s ass, but waiting, a nagging voice still telling him he was making a choice that would only complicate matters. When Tron closed his eyes and let his mouth go slack he stopped caring. With a ragged groan and a cry from Tron, Alan pushed into him, shocked by the smooth heat, the otherworldly jolt of pleasure he felt that shot straight through his body like a firecracker. He almost couldn’t help but move, holding Tron’s ass with both hands and jacking up into him as he brought the program down for each thrust. Tron’s fingers dug into the back of Alan’s neck, and he hissed at the pain, letting it mingle with the ache of pleasure and the heat of Tron’s circuits as they slid over his sweat-slicked skin. They moved together in what felt like a blur; Tron rolled his hips against each push from Alan, stroking his own cock and making sounds that had Alan contemplating a permanent stay on the Grid. Fuck Encom.  
  
Tron was so tight around him, so good that Alan started thinking of ways to prolong the experience when he felt himself approaching his orgasm. He wanted it to go on forever—or at least until the portal closed on its own and he had a reasonable excuse to stay. He pulled Tron against him, holding the program tight and pushing himself to the edge with short, shallow thrusts. When he came it was with one hand tight in Tron’s hair, holding him down on his cock as he pushed up into him just enough to spend himself completely. He let go and fell back against the couch, letting his eyes fall shut on their own.  
  
There was motion above him, and he looked to find Tron still stroking himself, biting his lip with his eyes squeezed shut. Alan reached out and wrapped his hand around Tron’s, urging him faster, listening to the heavy breathing, and watching the light of Tron’s circuits as they deepened to a shade of purple he wasn’t sure he had ever seen before. When he finally came it spilled over Alan’s hand, dripping onto his stomach. Tron fell forward against him, chest still heaving from the exertion as his circuits slowly faded back to a more natural shade of blue. Where Alan touched him they remained violet, which was a little more endearing than he expected, and still so fascinating.  
  
Tron turned his head and set his cheek on Alan’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said.  
  
Alan wasn’t sure how to respond at first. He wait for a moment, wondering if there was more, but Tron said nothing. Finally he asked, “For what?”  
  
“For staying a little longer.”  
  
“Well,” Alan said, pausing to shift into a slightly more comfortable position. “You _are_ my program.”  
  
Tron chuckled, and Alan heard him start to speak before something stopped him. He could feel Tron’s body tense, and he turned to see whatever it was that had so abruptly changed the program’s demeanor.  
  
Ed stood at the top of the stairs, mouth agape as he stared at Alan and Tron, both still very nude. He looked angry, maybe even hurt. It wasn’t something Alan had ever expected to see coming from the younger Dillinger.  
  
There was no way to deny what they had done. He didn’t particularly feel the need to apologize for it, or even explain himself at first, but then he remembered Ed’s “innocent” touch on the recognizer; what had drawn out Tron’s desire to express his feelings, and led to the passionate encounter that was suddenly no longer a private matter between program and user.  
  
“Ed—”  
  
Without a word Ed turned and disappeared back down the stairs. Alan could hear him as he stormed out of the club, back to the elevator. No doubt intent on returning to the portal alone. He would do it, too.  
  
“I should go after him,” Alan said. He tried to dislodge himself from the weight pinning him down, but Tron didn’t move. “I wanted to prevent this, but I only made it worse.”  
  
Tron finally moved to the side, setting himself on the couch with his legs crossed as they had been before. He watched Alan fumble with his disc for a moment before reaching over and resetting his suit for him. Strangely, Alan didn’t notice any discomfort where there should have been a wet spot under his clothes. That was disconcerting and pleasantly surprising all at once.  
  
“When will you come back?” Tron asked.  
  
Alan shook his head. “Sam’s supposed to come in for the next few cycles, and then Ed. I…” he stopped himself and looked down, into the face that was so much like his own, but still so incredibly different. Tron looked up at him neither pleadingly nor expectantly; he just looked, as though he would accept whatever Alan offered. “Well, there’s no reason I can’t make a trip in on my own.”  
  
A small smile made its way through the grim acceptance, and Tron nodded. “I’ll be here.”


End file.
